Forever Sunsets
by D R O W N-I N-S E Q U I N S
Summary: The sunset sets the room in a familiar red glow. And its violent and real and it’s so very them. Oneshot.


**So this one's... different? I don't really know. But I do like it. So tell me what you think. :) P.S. I'm going on a Carribean cruise which means I'll be like MIA for at least a week!!! But hey, it's worth it!**

* * *

Her stiletto boot pushes down harder and her hands grip the steering wheel tighter and she **hateshateshates**the clichéness of it all. She wants to scream and laugh so she does because there's nobody around to look at her like she's crazy and even if there were, they wouldn't give a fuck because that's just how it is.

The trees blur and she cranks the radio **louderlouderlouder** because it's the only thing that can drown out the silent emptiness that haunts her. Revenge is sweeter than you ever were by the Veronicas blares and she thinks she likes angry girl music a lot better than the bubblegum shit she usually plays. And she has to agree that revenge is sweet, so fucking sweet.

They're going to get their revenge, she's going to make them wither and cry and beg for it all to go away and they're not even going to know it's revenge. And honestly? That's the best part of it all. They won't even realize that she's gotten her revenge and they're going to feel **guiltyguiltyguilty**for the rest of fucking miserable lives and there's nothing like the thought of other broken people to make her feel a little bit more whole. There's nothing like destroying others to build herself up and she is going to fucking demolish them.

_Revenge tastes a lot like death._

---

And a part of her wishes it didn't have to end up like this. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, this wasn't her plan but she was making do with what she got and wasn't that what people were always telling her to do? To make use with what she was given and to stop simply taking what she wanted? But there was no damn way she wasn't going to get what she wanted.

_They'd all remember her name._

---

She's crying and there's no cameras or flashing lights and the music is just buzzing in her ears and it's the first time in forever that she isn't putting on a show. It's the first time in forever that she just let's everything take over her and her emptiness is crashing into her like hurricane waves and she thinks she's drowning but then again she never did swim, did she?

She's sick of not having control and not being able to lose control and she hates the oxymoron that she's become. And she can't do this anymore. She can't pretend and flash and not sparkle and she **needsneedsneeds **to just stop the fucking ache that runs through her veins and makes her cold and snakes around her lungs and makes it hard to breathe. She needs it all to stop and suddenly she's dialing the only numbers that ever felt like home. They're ingrained into her fingertips and she thinks maybe just maybe they're a part of her soul. The only numbers that ever were home. But a lot has changed.

_She doesn't have a home anymore._

---

"Hello?" and it's the one familiar voice belonging to the only person that ever cared and she hates how she can never find a way to stay happy. She hates herself for self destructing the way she does and really she wants to just fucking shatter and she's a little surprised she hasn't. But then again how can she shatter without a soul?

"Caity," she's sobbing into the phone and she can't stop. She can remember it all. She remembers the late nights of giggling and the stars are their flashlights. They're all yellow sundresses and jump rope. They hate the early morning and insist that chocolate milk is nighttime food. They like the sunset and they pop bubbles and laugh until they cry and that's the only time tears mar their eyes. And they're innocence bubble wrapped in hidden scars that fade away as the lights do.

"Who is this?" and Caitlyn's voice is so concerned. As if some crazy person is sobbing into her phone at 1 o'clock in the afternoon while the sun burns brightly in forever happy California where the beaches are sidewalks and the ocean is just another scene to play the same damn games in. And she breaks.

_Because eventually the memories and sunsets fade and all you have is black._

---

There was once a point in time when she would have known her number by heart. There was once a point in time when she knew her voice but it all seems to drift away in the wind but that doesn't stop the stabbing pain in her aching veins. Really she's already dying from the searing way the ache pounds all around her in a smoky dark fog.

"I'm so sorry Caity," and it's all she can say. There's so many things to apologize for and it takes too much to list her crimes for her once upon a time best friend. Some of them are cruel and bitchy and malicious and she'll rot in hell for them. They're the ones that teen-mean-queen flicks are made of and she's not really sorry for those ones because she did what she had to do to stay on top. She's sorry for the stupid things that Caitlyn has long since forgotten like when she accidentally lost her favorite chapstick. Those are the things she wants to apologize for.

_She knows better than anybody how the small things climb up until you're drowning in them._

---

"It's okay," but it's not and they both know it. And both phones are being gripped tighter and tighter because lies are the only thing they have in common. And pink glitter and lime green fishnets and boys named Shane Gray don't seem quite as important when their lives are being held together by a flimsy tangle of lies like it's okay. And it takes everything for her not to laugh in Caitlyn's face because really nothing was ever okay but they're both so good at pretending and seeing what they need to see.

_Denial is the only way they know how to survive._

---

The tears have dried as has the mascara and she looks like a fucking mess and if anything that only causes her to drive faster. "I miss you Caity." And she's wanted to say it for so fucking long but sometimes it hurts too much to admit the truth. Most of the time it hurts too much.

"I know," and it's not conceited or arrogant it's just the truth and it throws them both a little because really they never did like the truth. The truth sucks you in and kills you and there's nothing you can do to escape it because no matter what way you tell it or twist it once it's out there you can't take it back. Lies kill you from the inside but at least on the outside you still look fine.

_They're going to go out in style._

_---_

It's quiet for a really long time and they're just breathing on the phone to let the other one know they're there. It's the most peaceful most of them have felt in a really long time. It's like the heartbeat in the womb but neither of them are cushioned anymore and they know that the world is a big scary place and the innocence has been ripped off of them like dirty ripped jeans.

And it's quiet and wonderful and honest and if anything it just makes everything hurt that much worse. They don't know what to do with the comfortable, with the sane, with the peace. They know nothing but bitter crazy chaos and it's the only way they know how to function so she ruins it because it's the only thing she knows how to do. "I fucked him Caity."

"Shocking," and the sarcasm and bitterness is so absolutely **Caitlyn** that she wants to scream. And the pretty messes are so absolutely **her **and it's just so nice to feel normal. To feel fucked up and messy and complicated but knowing that Caitlyn will fix it because Caitlyn **alwaysalwaysalways **fixes it. But then Caitlyn has to destroy her sense of normalcy, her sense of security. Her everything. "You're a real bitch, you know?"

_She knew, she just thought Caitlyn didn't._

---

She doesn't cry. Because tears are a waste of time and mascara and there's no cameras and lights and why make a scene if there's nobody to see it? And really she doesn't know her role if there's nobody around her to take her cues from. So she lets the silence swallow them whole because it kills them both.

_If she's going down, she's damn well taking somebody with her._

---

"Why do you do it?" and at first she thinks Caitlyn's question is rhetorical and maybe it is. But there's something in the way she says it. Like she really wants to know. Like a part of her is confused. And honestly? She's confused too. She doesn't know why she likes to hurt herself, it's just what comes naturally.

"Do what?" she asks because she needs to hear somebody, anybody, Caitlyn say it. She needs the words to ring out and accuse her and attack her and suffocate her. She's been suffocating for so long and the lies sink her under and drown her but the truth encloses in on her until she's fucking choking on them. She's choking on it now.

"Don't play fucking games with me," Caitlyn sighs. And they both sound so old. And not in the way they always wanted to. Not the way that made them start taking long drags of cigarettes with the pretty smoke twirling around them in deadly lullabies or glittering stilettos or shredded skirts. They sound defeated and broken and like it hurts to simply be. And she remembers when games meant something entirely different.

_She remembers when they were alive._

---

"Old habits die hard. You should know that better than anybody," she drawls in that annoying way she likes to do. And she knows that she's playing with fire and she knows that she's bound to get burned but really it's all the point. At least the burning she can feel. She can grasp onto. She can understand the pain. She knows pain.

"Don't bring him into this," and just like that Caitlyn's alive again. Only she's venomous and deadly and dangerous and bitter. But he always did make her burn a little brighter. He made her burn so **brightbrightbright **but eventually she ran out and just like that she was gone. Caity was gone and in her place was this **bitterbitterbitter **girl.

"Why not? It's all his fault." And it's not but it's so much easier to blame him. To blame his charming smile and soulful eyes and soft hair. He charmed them both and sucked them in and played them both against each other for his own amusement because he could. Because they let him. And that's what hurts most of all.

_They didn't care enough to fight for it._

---

"If I remember correctly, you were on top of him," her voice is sneering and the hurt is still there, after all this time. And she remembers it all so well. He was Caity's boyfriend and she was Caity's best friend and he was the brother to her boyfriend and she thinks she needs a fucking diagram. She remembers his hot clumsy fingers and she remembers the way he moaned her name. She knows now the same thing she did back then.

_He wasn't worth it._

---

"I can't take it back," and she wouldn't if she could because honestly some mistakes need to be made. Some things need to be ruined and some things need to break. And if she had gotten any deeper into any of the holes she had dug back then she wouldn't have long been buried. And she'll do what she needs to survive. Even if it hurts. Especially if it hurts.

_Good girls don't cheat, self destructive girls do._

---

"Do you remember the steps?" Caitlyn breaks the steady silence that had followed. And of course she does. The concrete steps right outside of Caitlyn's plum door where they would eat cherry popsicles and in the hot sun until little red puddles would appear around their feet and their sticky red hands would make prints across the banister. It was where they did everything. Where they got addicted to cherry popsicles, to boys, to cigarettes. It's where their late night confessions would be whispered safely because the steps were the only place where the real world couldn't touch them. It's where they watched sunsets. She misses the steps the way she misses happiness. As a distant memory that hurts to remember.

"Yeah, I remember." And that says it all because Caitlyn knows her. She knows what she doesn't say and she knows what it all means and it's like being on the steps with the moonlight over them and the glowing ashes of their cigarettes dancing in the wind all over again. She misses it all. But she can't afford to remember.

_She can't want something that doesn't exist._

---

And for a really long time it's quiet. Seconds, hours. It doesn't matter. Not with Caitlyn's breath on the other line as she drives faster and faster in the twisting roads. Time doesn't matter when it's finally in her own hands. When she finally gets to decide how much she has left. And it's just like how they always were, how they really were.

_Without words there's no more lies._

_---_

"I'm so tired Caity." She whispers the words that she meant to tell her all along. And it was the whole point for this call really. She was so tired and broken and she just wants it to **stopstopstop**. And at one point this was her home. This is where she rested. But she stopped visiting the steps a long time ago and the exhaustion is eating away at her and the truth is suffocating her and she doesn't even know how to be happy anymore.

"Don't you dare hang up the phone on me," Caitlyn hisses. Caitlyn was always scary when she was angry. With her wild curly hair blowing and her cheeks reddening. But some things don't matter anymore. Sometimes you have to just let go and she was pretty sure this was one of those times.

"I'm so sorry Caity."

_Click._

_---_

And when the line goes dead, Caitlyn runs all the way over to her house. She doesn't bother to knock and when the paramedics find her hours later the she's rocking the cold pale body against her chest whimpering while the sunset sets the room in a familiar red glow. **Redredred **and its violent and real and it's so very them. They gently pry the dead blond girl away and she sobs only one thing over and over.

"**Tess**."

_Because some voices are fucking unforgettable._


End file.
